Halloween 2010: Whoring, Drinking And Dignity Loss

I like Halloween.  It's a time when children get to dress-up and eat loads of candy and adults can also don costumes and drink themselves into oblivion.  Every year, I will scrape together a costume and head out to take part in the grown-up debauchery, which generally entails a bar/party, pointing and laughing at the various costumes concocted by people with a lot of spare time on their hands, and of course -  a "couple" of beverages.  My celebrations this year consisted of a house party in Long Beach on Friday and Sutra Lounge in the East Village on Saturday both attended with my favorite neighbor Brooklyn.  I spent two nights in a row dressed as a schoolgirl, but not a slutty school girl in the Britney Spears "Hit Me Baby One More Time" genre.  Slutty costumes are pretty much the norm on Halloween, giving women an excuse to take a break from their everyday garb (unless you're a stripper or porn star) and don ass-skimming hemlines and push-up bras.  This may not be my thing, but I have absolutely no problem with those who want to be daring and tease with a little cheek or cleavage (or both) for a night.  I say go for it - bring on the naughty cops and nurses!  But there were a couple of costumes that I did take issue with.

(that gorgeous, but slutty, Elle Macpherson look alike is a man...) 

I was in the bathroom line at the bar behind a woman dressed entirely in black up to her neck with a sign pinned to her back in the shape of an inverted triangle, which read "Yes - definitely."  Wednesday Adams, who I had befriended that night as we were both dressed as children, asked "Umm what is SHE dressed as?"  In my tipsiness and unable to see a number eight anywhere on her, I responded "Uh desperation?"  There is really no clearer communication of your willingness to go home with someone than posting a sign across yourself!  Which brings me to the costume I hated the most.  We spotted an Asian girl wearing a cheap looking, short, skintight, white dress in the style of a traditional Chinese dress.  It was trimmed in red and had writing on it resembling a Chinese takeout container.  On each boob it read "Enjoy", in the crotch area "Thank You" and across the back "Take Me Out."  And to top it all off - a headband with a large fortune cookie.  Perhaps it would not have been as bad if it were someone of a different ethnicity in the costume but to see this girl in the outfit was not funny - more like sad and distasteful.  I watched her uncoordinated attempts to dance provocatively and get attention and thought - "Is this the way the she wants the world to see her - as some sort of gross stereotype?"  There's a fine line between sexy, slutty and then there's pathetic (I'm talking to you magic eight ball) and just plain offensive.  There is also just plain naked!  We saw one girl dressed as an Indian in a slim tube that barely covered her boobs and a teeny square of a skirt in a beige skin-toned fabric, with a pair of fringy boots, feathered headband and axe.  "Her boots have more material than the rest of her outfit!" blurted Wednesday, which was the truth.  Was it not for those couple of accessories the whole Pocahontas thing would have gone completely unnoticed. 

(Milli Vanilli!)

Other memorable moments?  A dance routine by Milli Vanilli to "Girl You Know It's True", being accosted by some perverted Care Bears in the street and this devil who fell asleep in an apartment doorway:

(and hello dignity loss..)

Creepy.  Today, which is actually Halloween, while walking around the West Village with Stamps after brunch, I finally found out how city kids trick-or-treat.  They go door to door at local businesses, restaurants and bars!  Burly bouncers, soften briefly, taking a break from ID'ng the Sunday football crowd to hand out candy to little trick-or-treaters in their adorable outfits.  I spotted one of the many local sex shops in the neighborhood and cracked to Stamps "I hope the sex shops aren't giving out candy" to which she replied, mimicking a child in a sex shop "Mommy what's this?" Ah so wrong.  Oh Halloween 2010 you did not disappoint and now I need a couple of non-bar, alcohol free weekends!  Next year, I too could have a couple shots, set aside my inhibitions and show some skin - but that is highly doubtful!

I Hate New Jersey Transit

I have spent the last four days commuting back and forth between NY and our office in Plainsboro, NJ via NJ Transit - the most pathetic excuse for public transportation in existence.  This morning I arrived to Penn Station to discover, not really all that surprisingly, that my train was delayed for 15 to 30 minutes.  I stood in the waiting area, surrounded by a mix of legitimite people heading out to work and sleeping, homeless drunks.  My eyes were glued on the monitor waiting anxiously for the status to change from "Standby" to "Boarding", looking occasionally at the time and mentally calculating my increasingly later arrival time at my destination.  A couple of young models, who were clearly d-list since they were being forced to take public transit, were bickering with each other over how they were going to be late to a photo shoot/show.  One of them, since I have started to resemble one that rides the train regularly, turned to me and said "What's up with the train?"  She looked confused and hungry, so I explained (slowly) that there was a delay and there was nothing we could do - she would be late like the rest of us to her show at the Jersey Gardens Mall or whatever.  After a 20 minute delay, we boarded and then to add insult to injury, the power in my car went out and I rode the entire way in the dark.  I hate NJ Transit and this is just another incident to add to my history of hideous experiences!  From the delays, uncomfortable seats, the smells and did I mention the DELAYS - it's no wonder Penn Station is filled with insane people, ambling around, talking to themselves.  They were probably once like the rest of us and then were slowly driven to madness by NJ Transit!  Here are some of my other "favorite" moments on the NJT:

• On a full train back to NY, I looked around for a place to sit and noticed that the only seat available was in a three-seater where the only other occupant was some white rasta, with a colorful knit cap sitting by the window.  I sat in the seat by the aisle, trying to keep my distance from my grimy seat mate.  Towards the end of the ride he removed his cap to reveal waist length dreadlocks and unleashing a rather unclean scent.  He scratched at his scalp and played with his ropes of hair and I slid even further against the armrest.  Then he turned his head and one of his nasty locks touched my laptop bag.  I cringed and as soon as we pulled into Penn - I leapt up and ran out of the train!
• Riding the train back to NY with female coworkers, we were chatting happily when I looked up and noticed a cockroach crawling across the ceiling not too far from where we were sitting.  I pointed it out and we recoiled in horror as it approached.  A couple of idiots noticed our fear of the roach and since it was above them, one of them swatted the dirty insect towards us!  
• This is not my story but I had one coworker have her train ride interrupted since some dude exposed himself to a woman on the train and they had to stop to investigate.  Charming.
• Well this one is mostly my fault and really the reason I set an alarm on my Blackberry when traveling to Plainsboro.  I fell into some kind of coma on the train, likely from the ungodly hour I have to wake up at to make it to the NJ office before 9 am.  My eyes fluttered open and I realized that the train had stopped.  I groggily looked over at the sign at the station and it read Princeton Junction - my stop!  I had no clue how long we had been stopped and my heart begin racing fearing that the doors would slam shut and I would be on my way to Trenton.  My legs were crossed and my flip flops off, so I uncrossed and tried to put weight on my feet only to discover that they were both asleep!  My feet were so numb that I could only manage to put on one flip flop  - then in a panic, I grabbed my bags, the other flip flop off the floor and limped off the train just in time!  A graceful exit indeed.

And lest we forget this incident.  Oh the joys of riding the Northeast Corridor line.

Can You Tell Me How To Get....

On Sunday afternoon, after a visit to the Whitney Museum of American Art, I saw a familiar face.  He looked lost and alone like most newcomers to the big city:

(you know the song!)

Ran away

Everything's A-OK

Corner of 49th and 6th

That's where we meet

Can you tell me how to get

How to get to Sesame Street

Living The Social Network

Me and GQ spent the last week working in MA.  I have been to MA once and spent a weekend in Boston partaking in all the typical touristy crap such as the hop-on/hop-off bus, walking the freedom trail, a bite at Faneuil Hall and a subpar meal at Legal Sea Foods - however, me and GQ take food very seriously and decided to turn our work trip into an opportunity to satisfy our foodie tendencies.  Our first 3 days were in Waltham, a suburb just outside of Boston.  GQ proactively scoured all the reviews on various websites and made reservations at Bergamot in Cambridge's Inman Square.  We drove around Harvard Square a bit and then decided to "pahk the cah" and get a pre-dinner drink at the "bah"(The Druid), where upon sitting down on a barstool, I was ID'd by the bartender (yes!).  Drinks at an Irish pub near Harvard reminded me of the opening scene in The Social Network, where the only woman  that appeared to have a brain in that movie dumped her obnoxious mogul-to-be (minus all the drunks in the background).  There was no such drama between me and GQ and we drank our "beeahs" and walked to the restaurant.  The interior of Bergamot is sleek and modern, but warmly candlelit - very nice.  We scanned the carefully edited menu and to start, GQ had a decadent risotto with rabbit and for me, a grilled Asian pear salad.  For our mains, GQ opted for the butter braised lobster and I had the seared scallops.

Whatever the creamy yellow sauce was made of (tasted hints of saffron) was DELICIOUS!  I ate every last bit of scallop-y goodness, squash and mushroom, trying to evenly distribute the yummy sauce on each bite.  Meanwhile, GQ sipped his glass of red watching as I ate having demolished his lobster - he must have enjoyed it since it was GONE.  We were full but had to indulge in this chocolatey thing with ice cream, caramel and pretzel:

(couldn't even finish it..)

Night two, realizing that the closet-sized gym at the Waltham Courtyard Marriott was full AGAIN - we drove to Harvard Square and parked to go for a long walk around the charming neighborhoods surrounding Harvard University, in anticipation of another major feed at Oleana.  The restaurant was cozy, with modern slate back-splashes and enough colorful ethnic decorations to indicate the mediterranean/middle-eastern theme but not so many to make it all just tacky.  We were seated (each in our plaid shirts ugh!) near the bar area where GQ noted there were a surprising number of well-dressed, "older" patrons.  Our waitress, who must be related to Spacey my yoga instructor, completely sold us on the burrata appetizer which was filled with lebne and served with dragon lingerie beans (?), chanterelle mushrooms and some kind of red pepper sauce (we still can't decipher the word she used).  We also ordered the fatoush salad and a couple glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon from the Bekka Valley in Lebanon.

This was followed by the lamb with Turkish spices for GQ and the roasted halibut with lentils for me.  The food was so great that I forgot to take the picture BEFORE plunging my fork into the dish - whoops.

The fish was perfectly cooked and the refreshing tart bursts of the pomegranate seeds went surprisingly well with the lentils and brussels sprouts.  We were beyond stuffed after our mains, but insisted on ordering dessert since the pastry chef had won awards for her creations.  Settling on the salted butter ice cream and pumpkin jam crepe with pumpkin seed granola, I managed 2 bites (which were heavenly), while the heavy man beside us took out a towering baked alaska.

Bloated from our meal, we were thankful for the considerable hike back to the car despite the cool chill of the New England air.  I felt even colder looking at GQ sans coat with the shirt sleeves of his plaid shirt casually rolled up like he was strolling around in Bermuda.  My plaid shirt was under wraps beneath my scarf and navy trench, preventing us from continuing to look like the plaid twins.

(night time on the Harvard Campus - no Mark Zuckerberg-alikes in flip flops spotted)

Night three, we gave our stomachs a bit of a break with a simple meal of pizza and pasta at Cambridge, 1.  I enjoyed the thin crust pizza while I think GQ enjoyed our waitress more.  After, we wandered up the street for cupcakes from Sweet and steaming cups of Gen-Mai Cha green tea from Tealuxe, a store with over 80 varieties of loose tea, scooped by angsty, heavily tattooed servers.

Our time in Cambridge was done and we had to drive to Devens that night, but I enjoyed my time moonlighting as a Harvard student.  I am envious of those who actually studied in high school and were able to go to school in such a great place.  While I experienced no Final club parties and saw nobody even remotely resembling a Winklevoss twin, I left feeling similar to how I left leaving that Facebook movie - satisfied, happy and with the urge to stop pronouncing the letter R.

Hell On Earth

On Sunday afternoon, I found myself in M&M World in Times Square, a place in which I have never been in my four years in NY.  Times Square on the weekend is terrifying enough, wading through the masses of tourists while blinded by the brightly lit LED signs and billboards, but this shrine to the candy coated chocolate candy is the epicenter of the madness.

I was at M&M World at the request of my young cousins who had come with their parents (my mom's sister and husband) for a visit with my family who were in town.  As soon as we walked in I was overwhelmed by the number of people packed into this spectacle, racing around to purchase silly M&M related paraphernalia and candies.  We went up to the second floor to the candy wall, filled with M&Ms in every color imaginable.  "Id'nt the-is the kewl-est!" I heard one woman chirp who was, to my confusion, without a child in tow!  The appeal of this place to grown ups (and there were many willingly there sans kids taking pictures with the goofy cartoon figures) is incomprehensible since M&Ms of any color taste exactly the same!  The crowd became too much and me, my parents and brother retreated to the corner of the store by the window.  My father stared out at the Reuters stock ticker perhaps as a distraction from the mayhem, a connection to the real world providing a sense of hope that he would someday return to that world again.

It had been almost 8 hours since my last meal and driven by my rumbling tummy, I strayed from the safe haven of the corner toward the candy wall in search of sustenance.  "Don't go!" my family begged, afraid I would never return.  However, once at the wall I found out the price for these candies, in colors other than the standard red, orange, yellow, green, blue and brown - $12.99 a pound!  If you went across the street to the Duane Reade you can buy the same M&Ms for $3.99 per 12.6 oz bag, making these M&Ms more than double the price!  I chewed a piece of gum instead.

Also, there are none of the specialty flavors available - just plain and peanut!  You can buy an M&M potholder or loofah but not a pack of freaking peanut butter or pretzel M&Ms!  I slunk back to the corner, hungry and disappointed - which is exactly how I left M&M World.

Art Gallery Etiquette

On Saturday afternoon, while wandering the Museum of Modern Art, I stopped to admire "The Starry Night" by Vincent Van Gogh.

I snapped this photo since this was THE original of the print that hung on my wall of my residence room and subsequent off campus housing.  However, this was the second photo I took.  The first photo looked like this:

Hello confused, disoriented photo interloper!  It's amazing that everyone will shuffle around the museum at a snails pace but whenever you're standing with your camera clearly positioned for a photo, suddenly they are in such a hurry that they cannot wait the three seconds it takes to take the damn photo and must scamper across your path.  Unbelievable!

Only You Can Prevent Mom Jeans

My family, parents and brother arrived in NY on Friday to celebrate two out of three of our birthdays (mine, mom and bro) and to just for some togetherness time. After a leisurely lunch at Penelope, my favorite local lunch/brunch spot, we headed toward Herald Square for some shopping.

(Cupcakes and other baked goods at Penelope)

After a certain age, I feel that we have a responsibility to our parents to make sure that they are not walking around in the world looking completely ridiculous, as clearly ones ability to judge the appropriateness of ones wardrobe diminishes with the aging process.  Mom jeans, pleated khakis, orthopedic looking shoes  can all be prevented with a little of our guidance!   First up - new jeans to update the jeans that I had previously selected for mom and dad that have since faded and worn, but not in a way that would put them in the trendy "distressed" category.  Standing in the men's section at the Gap, I began piling different styles and sizes of jeans into my dad's arms.  Standard, Authentic, Straight, Easy, Loose, Bootcut - we got pairs of all of them except for the Skinny jeans, which are just wrong on most men and especially on one over the age of 60!  I tossed my dad into a dressing room and paced around outside waiting for him to come out and model each pair.  We settled on a couple workable fits and then began honing in on the correct size.  It took about a half dozen trips back and forth from the jeans section (each time destroying the perfect stacks of denim) and enough pairs of jeans tried on to make the dressing room dude's head explode as I returned heaps of rejects, to find two pairs of perfect jeans.  Mission accomplished!

(Falling into the Gap)

My mother, being very petite and very stubborn, was even more difficult to shop for and I braced for all the comments I knew would come my way: "It shows my belly", "It's too tight", "It's too long", "It's itchy", "It's too young", "It's too old", "Why is this thing here?" and so on!  We attempted the petite section at Banana Republic, but came out empty handed.  Then we headed over to Macy's, the most nightmarish department store on earth, which I typically avoid at all costs due to the number of frenzied tourists that overrun this place.  But I dutifully accompanied my mother to the petite floor, determined to find at least SOMETHING she would like.

(Shopping with the elves)

We swept through the entire floor in search of  jeans and my mother's beloved twin sets. And I kept losing my mom as she is so small I often lost her in and amongst the racks!  She headed to the dressing room while I searched on, but when I went back there to find her I was confronted with a narrow hall of about 30 change rooms.  I wandered through stopping at intervals semi-yelling "Moooom?" like a lost child.  When I finally located her, she passed me a bunch of items she had already vetoed and I watched as she anxiously tugged at some sweater, self-conscious with her mid-section.  "I need to lose this!" she complained as I wondered how many women her age are there really running around with six-packs.  After MANY more trips around elf-land, we found some items (including jeans she didn't need to hem) that she loved.  

We tried to pay but were trapped in line behind coupon lady - I'm all for a deal and the use of coupons, but you need to strategize the best payment methodology prior to getting in line!  In addition to losing the ability to dress ones self, aging also causes one to not give a f**k what anyone else around them thinks and this was clearly this woman's attitude as she dealt cards and coupons like she was playing poker, while the line continued to grow behind her!  The exasperated cashier punched in every possible permutation and combination of the fistful of coupons this nut-job had accumulated to purchase her pastel sweaters and dated looking floral things.  In the end, the woman decided to split her haul into two separate purchases to save on taxes, which we were informed by the cashier resulted in savings of approximately 42 cents.

At the end of the day, mom and dad got some really nice things and my work is done - since I can't really monitor to make sure that they actually wear the stuff!

A Fall Dinner Al Fresco

Fall is my favorite time of year, when the heat and humidity of the summer begins to cool and the air in the city seems - fresher.  This summer in particular was brutal, testing the limits of my air conditioning unit and making the normal NYC smells that much smellier.  Thursday night I met Giggles and Stamps, my favorite dining companions, at Morandi in the West Village after a failed attempt to get a table at the packed Dell'Anima.  They were seated on the patio and had ordered a bottle of red (Montepulciano).  The best part of any patio is the people watching and this one was no exception, the corner of Charles and 7th Ave abuzz with pedestrians.  The patio itself had its share of sites, including one fahh-bulous woman draped in a fur jacket with a king charles spaniel obediently perched on her lap even as she ate.

I had been to Morandi several times for brunch (great baked eggs) and am obsessed with the bread, but never for dinner.  We reviewed the extensive menu and Stamps attempted to get a recommendation from our waiter.  "What's your favorite pasta?" she asked and he said uselessly "I love them all!" - gee thanks!  Our first course was the grilled octopus with celery and black olives, which arrived looking delicious, but disturbingly like an octopus.

"Octopuses are really smart" stated Stamps to which I replied "Yes and they even predict the results of World Cup matches" referring to Paul the psychic Octopus, who went 8/8 in his predictions.  In fact when he predicted Germany's win over Argentina, he received death threats from angry Argentinian supporters!  We looked down at our dish, with a slight feeling of mourning for the poor mollusc who may have predicted his own demise - that he would be caught, grilled and served drizzled with olive oil.  Smart and yummy.  For our mains, Giggles had the Tagliatelle alla Bolognese, Stamps the buccatini with sardines, fennel and walnuts and I had the fresh spaghetti with lemon and parmesan.

It was DELICIOUS - the pasta was al dente, lightly lemony and cheesy, but not at all heavy or oily.  I made Giggles and Stamps try it and they agreed that it was fantastic.  It was so good, that I twirled and slurped my way through the whole dish and wished there was more of it.  Definitely worth trying to make at home!  We finished the meal sharing the lemon pudding cake with berries, drank the rest of our mediocre bottle of wine and enjoyed the weather and atmosphere which felt rather Parisian.  Stamps took off to go see a concert leaving me and Giggles to finish the cake.  It was getting chillier and I shivered a bit in my thin jacket, suddenly wanting to rip the fur coat off the woman with the dog.

(Beautiful houses around the corner)

We sat and listened to some dude sitting behind us with a VERY affected, nasal voice, wearing one of those hideous shirts where the collar is white but the rest of the shirt is blue and white stripes, drone on and on about some famous guy he knows.  "We're close" he kept insisting to the fussy looking group of people with him.  I rolled my eyes lamenting internally at how we ate the smart little octopus earlier while this douche bag is allowed to live!

Okay, enough with the octopus - next time, they really need to just cut that thing up!

The Last Bite

This evening, Giggles and Stamps treated me to a birthday dinner at Market Table at Carmine and Bleecker.  It was cool and rainy outside, but inside was cozy and warmly lit with votive candles - all very romantic.  We sat up at the bar and started with some glasses of red (Montelpulciano for Giggles and Stamps and a Cote de Rhone for me) and the crispy calamari with chili crema and guacamole.  As we munched, Giggles offered me the last bite and said "In my culture whoever has the last bite will have the hottest boyfriend" I liked this train of thought and took the last piece of calamari, scraping what I could of the guacamole off the plate.

For our mains, Stamps had the skate wing with fingerling potatoes, Giggles the roasted chicken with root vegetables and I had the beet salad with goat cheese and a side of cauliflower with anchovy, capers and breadcrumbs.  All of our meals were tasty, generous portions, carefully prepared using seasonal ingredients.

I was full but you must have dessert on your birthday!  We decided (well I decided) on the apple pie with honey gelato with pecans and caramel sauce.  While devouring the last bite, again, I said to Giggles "That last bite thing doesn't make sense.  You would think whoever takes the last bite would be the biggest heifer" to which Stamps assured me "Meh, there are no calories on your birthday!"

I'm pretty sure I'm right, however for tonight I choose to believe my friends!  Mmmm caramel...

Thoughts On My Birthday

As a single woman in my 30's there are a lot of cliches that I have to deal with the most popular being I'm desperate to find some guy, have a some spectacular wedding and then push out babies.  A lot of my friends are in this place (though it's not just some guy!) and it is sometimes bizarre to me that their Thursday night will involve trying to wrangle the kids into bed and then eking out a few minutes of time for themselves, whereas mine will often involve an establishment that serves alcohol.  Not that I don't want all of those things, I admire my friends and their families, but that is not where my life has taken me.  Where my life has taken me since my last birthday?

Philippines - Okay this is one trip I would like to forget since I had to work the night shift and survived for two weeks of about three hours of sleep a night and a diet of Starbucks coffees (black of course) and the breakfast buffet at the Intercontinental.  Maybe if I had visited Boracay or Cebu, my memories of the Philippines would be fonder, but instead they are mostly confined to the greenish, dim fluorescent lighting of the office and witnessing various "transactions" in the lobby of the hotel.  On the other hand, I was with some great people and there were some memorable fits of hysterical laughter as a result of the sleep deprivation and insane work schedule, an amazing hot stone massage, shopping for pearls and one ridiculous trip to the highlands, riding a horse named Princess up a mountain to see a crater in the dark.

Japan -  Oh the dilemma between eating all the sushi, udon, ramen, tempura, yakitori, yakiniku and countless other delicacies and shopping in Tokyo, trying to stuff your Western-sized a** into tiny, doll-like Japanese sizes.  I chose food.  I also chose weekend trips to Kyoto and snowboarding in Gala.

Other silly things...

The button on the toilet at the office which we found out only makes the flushing sound since many Japanese women, being very demure, do not want others to hear them urinate and will continuously hit this button as they go.  And...(the below photo is not suitable viewing for those under 18)..

The porn guide from my hotel room, which me and all my coworkers thought was the TV guide, but were very much mistaken.  Looks like the Japanese love them some chocolate!

France, Spain - This trip didn't start out so promising when me and my coworkers arrived at our original hotel, that resembled a truck stop, which was appropriate since we were driving the largest vehicle in all of France.

But after hunting around for three hours, we found our home for the next three weeks at the beautiful Chateau de Lasalle in Agen.  There was one amazing weekend in Barcelona at the new W hotel and eating our way through tasting menus at Michelin rated restaurants Cinq Sentits and Commerc 24 and taking in the Picasso museum, Gaudi's Casa Mila and Sagrada Familia as well as other sites.  The next weekend was in Paris - *sigh* - my third trip to this amazing city.

India - Bangalore is definitely not the most glamorous city, it's dirty and overcrowded and traffic may be stopped occasionally due to stray cattle in the street - but the food, the clothing (bought three saris) and the culture!  We spent our first weekend in Goa and enjoyed the beach at our resort...

And one not so amazing public beach, filled with Indian men running around in their wet, sandy underwear...

The second weekend was in Delhi, with a day trip the Taj Mahal.  On the way, the driver had to go pay a toll or something and parked at the side of the road - this dude kept trying to get us to look at his performing monkeys when one of them got a little too close....

Actually, it's two of them.  If you look closely there's a baby monkey clinging desperately to it's mama.  I guess since we watched the monkey show and took this picture - the guys wanted to get paid. So they were banging on the windows and trying to open the car!  Meanwhile the driver was lord knows where! Then my one coworker said - "Oh my god that guy has a snake"  I immediately dove into the lap of my boss in the fetal position (very professional I know - but she's kind of like a work mom to me) since I am TERRIFIED of snakes.  So picture this - all of us were screaming and on the verge of tears, there are men banging on the windows asking for money with monkeys and a damn snake outside!  We laugh about this now.

Canada (home) - Home sweet home.  Well Ottawa, but close enough to home.  Friends, family = fabulous!

And of course Ecuador...

It's been a busy year and I'm not sure what's in store for the year ahead.  But no matter what happens and where I may go, I'm super thankful for my wonderful, supportive family, my friends back home and in New York, that still like me even if I don't get to see them as often as I would like and... my life.

And This Is Why You're Fat...

On Friday, I met up with a couple of friends at 675 Bar for drinks for my birthday (tomorrow), with a brief stop at Buddakan, and then ended the evening with this.....

Disco fries from The Diner on the corner of 14th and 9th Ave, where I once saw Nigel Barker from America's Next Top Model having lunch - completely hot.  The fries tasted good (not as good as poutine), but at 3:00 am I couldn't even manage a quarter of this thing.  Probably better as an appetizer - with a bunch of friends!

For more obscenely caloric, artery clogging treats see:

 http://www.thisiswhyyourefat.com/

Love, Loss, And What I Wore

Me and Giggles went to go see Love, Loss, and What I Wore tonight a play by Nora and Delia Ephron, based on the book by Ilene Beckerman at the Westside Theatre.  It's a rotating cast, which at our performance featured Stacey London from What Not To Wear as well as some other actresses which I don't really know - Helen Carey (Julie and Julia), Victoria Clark (The Light in the Piazza), Nancy Giles (CBS Sunday Morning), Ashley Austin Morris (The Electric Company).

When we arrived at the theatre and looked around the place, we thought we had accidentally wandered into a showing of Menopause the Musical (yes it's a real show - the hilarious celebration of women and the change!) as the rows were filled with groups of gray haired women, vigorously fanning themselves and it was not particularly hot.  There were surprisingly a few men in attendance either accompanying a spouse/girlfriend or solo and weird (dude at the end of our row I'm talking about you).

(the man in front of us was with his wife - he looked normal)

The lights went down and the five women were seated on the stage and used clothing and accessories to tell stories about life - some poignant and most humorous - interlaced with thoughts about dressing room trauma ("Are these mirrors distorted?") closet panic ("I have nothing to wear"), basic black ("Does this come in black?") and things your mother says ("Is THAT what you're wearing?").  Some of my favorite parts were the shoe dilemma, a woman's decision between heels or thinking - since heels hurt so damn much you can't think - and the first bra stories, which made me think of my first - a sports bra of course.  I being a true tomboy, wanted no part of the bra, having zero interest in wearing something that looked so restrictive and uncomfortable.  I was about 11 when my mom was telling me that I should really get one, but it was only after an all-day soccer tournament where my tiny chest hurt so badly after that I needed a Tylenol and to lie down, when it finally sunk in that I did need one.  "I told you!" scolded my mother, completely unsympathetic.

Victoria Clark was a standout telling a funny story about mourning the loss of a perfect shirt that disappeared one day and how she tried to replace it with eight new shirts that each had features of the perfect shirt, but was just not the same.  She had also broken up with her boyfriend at around the same time the shirt vanished, but in no way was she transferring her sense of loss from the break up to this shirt (*wink wink*) - hmm eight replacement "shirts" sound like a good plan!  She also told a sad but hopeful story about a breast cancer survivor, focusing on a beautiful lace bra to get her through the pain of the reconstruction.

Do I recommend this show?  Yes!  It was funny and touching in that Sex and the City movie type way - but I would not dream of taking a man to this thing!